


Withers and Dies

by shishcabob22



Series: I Thought I Wouldn't Miss You (Until You Were Gone) [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 9x13, Gen, Sam and Dean Fight
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-19
Updated: 2018-06-19
Packaged: 2019-05-25 14:04:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14978717
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shishcabob22/pseuds/shishcabob22
Summary: Sam's thoughts during and after 9x13. Dean's unraveling, and Sam can't decide how much he cares.





	1. Sam

Sam rubbed his jaw as he walked into the kitchen, slightly taken aback when he saw Dean was already seated at the table. His...partner wasn't exactly known for being an early riser. "Hey."

"Hey." Dean's reply was quieter, his voice low and rough.

Sam eyed him. "You go to bed last night?"

Dean looked up at him, squinting into the room's harsh light. "What? Uh, no." He cleared his throat. "No, Rudy was on, and then uh, Unforgiven and then I was too jacked to sleep so...research." Dean sipped from his glass, not even attempting to hide the fact that he had replaced his usual morning coffee with alcohol. But then, Dean never really had a knack for subtlety.

Sam and Dean discussed hunting plans for the day. Dean had found them a case in Stillwater, Minnesota that seemed like it was worth checking out.

Dean got up from the table, avoiding eye contact. "I'll be ready in five."

"You sure you're okay, Dean?"

Dean stopped and turned around. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"Cause, I don't know, you're..." _Despondent? Drinking for the record? Growing a damn beard?_ "This isn't about what I said the other day, is it?" _It would be ridiculous if it was, considering you brought this on yourself._

"Oh, about the 'we're not supposed to be brothers'? Don't flatter yourself, I don't break that easy." 

"Good, cause I was just being honest."

Dean turned and started walking down the corridor. "Oh yeah, no, I got that loud and clear!"

* * *

 

"Sorry, man. I'm just _being honest._ "

Dean was being childish. To be fair, most of their unprofessional exchanges recently had been rather childish, and Sam had to take at least a little credit for that. Sam couldn't really say that everything he had said to Dean back in the kitchen had been completely necessary. Whatever. He'd get Dean back for this one later.

* * *

 

_"Lisa Braeden. She was a yoga teacher. It was the bendiest weekend of my life."_

_"If you ever mention Lisa and Ben to me again, I will break your nose. I'm not kidding."_

"You're not the only one who's ever dated someone bendy."

It was cruel, and Dean probably didn't deserve it. But Sam couldn't resist the opportunity.

* * *

 

Sam couldn't deny the flash of panic and confusion he felt when he got Dean's call. It was the first time Dean had called him Sammy since...well, since everything. Besides, Dean sounded weird. 

It was jarring to find Dean collapsed in the storage room. Apparently Dean had been drugged.

_Get over it. This isn't the first time something like this has happened, and it certainly won't be the last._

* * *

 

As soon as Sam and Dean wrapped things up and got back to the bunker, Dean hit the bottle again. Sam decided to head off to bed early. 

"Sam, wait." 

Sam turned around to look at Dean expectantly.

"About what you said the other day..."

"I thought it didn't bother you."

Dean ignored the dig. "You know, I saved your hide back there. And I saved your hide in that church, and in that hospital. I may not always think everything through, but what I do, I do because it's the right thing. I'd do it again."

Sam decided to be straight with Dean. No more games. "And that, is the problem. You think you're my savior, my brother, the hero. You swoop in, and even when you mess up, you think what you're doing is worth it, because you've convinced yourself you're doing more good than bad, but you're not."

Dean looked up at him, his face impassive.

Sam continued, "I mean, Kevin's dead, Crowley's in the wind, we're no closer to beating this angel thing. Please tell me, what is the upside of me being alive?"

Dean expression changed to one of disbelief. "You kidding me?" Sam looked at him expectantly. "You and me, fighting the good fight, together."

Sam let out an exasperated breath and faced the door as if he was going to leave. _No, I'm settling this now._ He turned around and rolled up his sleeves, quickly striding forward to take a seat at the table. He looked Dean in the eye. "Just once, be honest with me. You didn't save me for me. You did it for you."

"What are you talking about?" There was a broken quality to Dean's voice that Sam had hoped he'd never hear again.  _It doesn't matter. This has gone too far for too long._

"I was ready to die. I was ready. I _should_ have died. But you...you didn't want to be alone. I mean, that's what all this boils down to. You can't stand the thought of being alone."

Dean got up, like he was trying to distance himself from Sam's words. From the implication of them. It just made Sam angrier.

"I'll give you this much. You are certainly willing to do the sacrificing. As long as you're not the one getting hurt." 

Dean set down his glass. "Alright, you wanna be honest? If the situation were reversed, and I was dying, you'd do the same thing."

Sam looked down. Dean had said it with such certainty. But he was wrong. Or at least, mostly wrong. Sam didn't want his brother dead. But that's how Dean would see it, and he couldn't afford to spare his brother's feelings right now. Telling Dean he was right wouldn't break this destructive cycle of saving each other at the cost of everyone else.

That didn't mean Sam could make himself look his brother in the eyes as he ripped everything Dean had ever known to pieces.

"No, Dean. I wouldn't."

Sam looked up. "Same circumstances... I wouldn't." He didn't have to lie to Dean about that. Sam would never sell his brother's body to an angel, would never rip him away from the one chance he had at peace. Would never sacrifice so many others for one person.

Apparently he couldn't say the same for Dean.

 

 


	2. Dean

"No, Dean. I wouldn't."

Dean felt like the floor had just disappeared beneath his feet, and he was left plummeting into a dark pit. He registered Sam getting up, saying something, leaving, but Dean couldn't hear him, couldn't react. 

Sam didn't care. 

Dean had sacrificed everything, _everyone,_ for Sam. Sam had always been his _reason._  Saving Sam had always been the only thing that mattered, or at least the thing that mattered most. Save Sam from death, save Sam from Hell, save Sam from himself. In that church, Sam had asked Dean how to stop the trials, how to _live._  So Dean did his best to keep Sam alive, just like always.

And Sam didn't care if Dean lived or died.

Dean couldn't bring himself to be angry, though. 

He deserved that. He deserved that and so much worse.

It was like he told Sam. He would burn in hell for the things he'd done.

Dean reached for his glass, but when he brought it to his lips, it was empty. _Damn._

There was nothing left for Dean. Sure, there was Cas, but he probably hated Dean now for kicking him out of the bunker. Dean couldn't blame him.

Dean set down his empty glass and leaned on the counter. His gaze fell on his gun where he'd left it on the kitchen table.

_No, not yet._

Dean ran his thumb over the Mark on his arm. What would be the point of getting the sign of the Father of Murder engraved on his skin if he didn't use it?

He would kill Abaddon first. That needed to be his focus, his mission.  _After that..._

Dean's eyes slid back to his gun.

_Then we'll see._

**Author's Note:**

> I'm sorry if Sam's perspective is a little confusing. It's probably because I found Sam confusing during that season. One minute he'd be cold and detached, and the next he'd be desperate to get Dean out of trouble. Anyway, feedback always welcome!


End file.
